


Midnight Blues

by greekowl87



Series: Tried and True [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Early MSR, Episdoe: s01e14 Lazarus, Episode: s01e13 Beyond the Sea, F/M, MSR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 19:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13887642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekowl87/pseuds/greekowl87
Summary: Early MSR set after 'Beyond the Sea' and 'Lazarus.' Mulder runs into Scully at a bar late at night.





	Midnight Blues

**Author's Note:**

> I tend to write more during my insomnia. Anyways, I very rarely do early MSR and I might make a series of this but I felt challenged and wanted to make this a sequel to Tried and True.

Scully was a forensic pathologist. She studied death. She examined, recorded, and cataloged it. She can give the dead voice. She spoke from beyond the grave when they no longer could. But experiencing death, on a personal level--well, nothing was easy about it. She had hoped her objective, rational scientific views would make the blows easier, waging a war against her own emotions that threatened to swallow her. So far, she had been winning but her defenses were waning.

The death of her father and seeing a vision of him right before the news of his death had been delivered. Jack coming back from the dead not as himself. They were still fresh on her mind, the barest disturbance sending pain through her inwardly. She had witnessed and experienced things she could not understand despite her attempts to explain it through science. Scully was beginning to have a lot of days like that, especially when it came down to working with Spooky Mulder. Except he wasn't spooky or weird. The more time she spent with him as her partner, the more he pushed and challenged her, the more she grew as a person. He respected her and treated her equally. The more she realized the rumors about Mulder were just that: rumors. But after the latest incident of Jack not claiming to be Jack, kidnapping her, that deranged woman, dying...she could not make head or tails of it. Jack's death and also ravaged her still healing grief of the loss of her father. Both weighed heavy on her like the cursed albatross around her neck.

So that Friday, when the clocked ticked to five o'clock on a Friday afternoon with the promise of a case-free three day weekend, Mulder perked up and smiled. "No cases, Scully and a three day weekend!"

"Huh?" She blinked and shifted her focus to him. "Oh yeah. Big plans, Mulder?"

He paused before answering her. Mulder had a lot of difficulties reading Scully. She kept her cards close to her chest and rarely let her emotions show except 'I'm fine, Mulder.' He had glimpsed at the woman named Dana Scully briefly when the FBI SWAT team stormed the building in her rescue but she was quick to recover. "You okay, Scully?"

She forced a smile that could have fooled almost everyone but him. He was slowly learning her tells. "I'm fine, Mulder. Just going to catch up some errands and work on a journal article. You know me, living it large."

Another thing that Mulder had noticed that Scully thought she hid from him was the dwindling social life that she used to have. He was not stupid. He heard things and he could make the connections. His late-night calls and dragging her across the country was beginning to take its toll. Only a month ago they were ready to kill each other over space worms on top of the world and somehow, someway, something shifted and sparked between them, a very primordial trust. Maybe it had been born the night she came to his hotel room in Bellefleur, but something had changed on top of the world and somehow, despite his crusade, she was becoming a very important aspect of his life.

"Nothing with your family?" 

"I kind of wanna be left alone," she shrugged. Her blue eyes shifted towards her briefcase. "I have a lot to get done."

"I'm sure," he deadpanned.

"What about you?" There it was. That false cheerfulness.

"Oh you know, hanging out in chat rooms, talking conspiracies and what not."

Scully had finished packing her things. "Well, don't get into any trouble so I have to save your ass. I want a quiet weekend."

"Yes, ma'am." He gave her a playful smile and she returned it with a slight quirk of her lips. "Have a good weekend, Mulder."

"You too, Scully."

She took a deep breath, sighed, and walked out into the hallways, her heels clicking against the sterile floors, each one making Mulder wince as he could only imagine what was going on through Scully's head.

. . . .

Scully had sat in her car in the parking garage beneath the Hoover Building for a half hour trying to decide what to do. She watched random agents pass, even saw Mulder loosening his tie as he jogged to his car, and she sat there wandering her place in the universe. Etha left after her first case and the first late-night call. Probably for the best. After seeing Ellen at her son's birthday and Tom Colton being a prick, what had been her social network absolved into one person, not including herself. Although she was annoyed with the late night calls, she enjoyed them. She enjoyed verbally sparring with Mulder and how he saw her as an equal. She kind of wished that he would call her tonight but she told him not to. But what were the odds he would listen? Then again, he looked awfully happy. Maybe he had a date. She was aware of what the female agents and sectaries said about him. As she shook her head and pinched her nose, the grief came back as a tension headache, like a spike being drilled into her skull as punishment for her father's and Jack's death. 

Fuck it. She needed to numb it. She needed to numb those threatening emotions that wanted to drown her. She was going to treat herself tonight.

. . . .

What many people did not know about Dana Scully is that she was a woman of simple taste. Her FBI persona screamed ice queen and her apartment declared itself worthy of a photo shoot in a home decor magazine. But deep down, she liked to be comfortable. Comfortable clothes, comfortable food, comfortable atmosphere.

After she left the Hoover building, she headed home to change into a pair of jeans and sweater. She grabbed her jacket and purse and left her phone. She drove to a dive bar at the other end of Washington near to Alexandria and let herself unwind. It started with a glass of cheap chardonnay in a wine glass that seemed to be made of plastic or cheap glass. She sipped it tentatively, trying to prolong the eventual buzz the alcohol would produce, but she grew hungry instead. Throwing her habit of eating healthy and dieting to the wind, she ordered a burger with onions, bacon, mushrooms, and cheese, and of course, onion rings, the obvious choice. As the bartender took her menu away, she chuckled to herself, imagining what Mulder would say if he could see her at this moment.

She took a deep breath and tried to visualize the moment. Her head was already lightheaded from the wine. The bar was smoky. She could smell someone smoking pot somewhere (those were the college days). The leather stool was too plump and made her feel like a child. She expanded her hands across the grainy, splintered wood of the bar trying to purposely get a splinter and forget at the same time. The grief was too much. To feel was too much. Maybe she should call Melissa tomorrow.

Suddenly there was a chuckle, loud and very familiar. She opened her eyes and clutched the short wine glass and bowed over her drink. She could not let Mulder see her like this, outside her armor and so exposed.

"Scully?"

Shit.

She closed her eyes and straightened her back as she felt a comforting hand graze her shoulder in greeting as he slid into the barstool next to her. She forced a smile and turned to him. Mulder smile faded as he read her face. 

"You here with a date," he teased, knowing she was alone.

She swallowed and nodded curtly. "I was but he ran off. Some big meeting or something."

"Those can be annoying."

"They can." Silence ensued and she played with the wineglass uncertainly, fidgeting, something Mulder had never seen before. "I don't want to keep you from your friends."

"They'd understand."

"Mulder!" A short man with glasses called. "You coming, amigo?"

"Come on, Mulder!" A tall lanky man with blond hair and glasses added.

Scully closed her eyes and turned down her head, bowing as if in prayer. At that moment, Mulder still to this day does not know why felt bad...he felt sad...he felt the need to comfort his greenhorn partner who was supposed to spy on him but had, unknowingly, become his friend. She played with the wineglass. "I'm fine, Mulder. Really. Have fun. I'll see you Tuesday." He could hear how her voice strained to keep from breaking. "I'm fine. Really."

Mulder looked to Lone Gunmen and with a simple shake of his head and a frantic wave of his hand, they left grumbling. "You don't seem fine," he stated softly.

"Is that the profiler in you?" She gulped her wine and grimaced. "Am I that pathetic?"

"No," he spoke softly. "You're not."

He rose his hand and ordered a Shinerbock quietly. The bartender asked about food. "I already ordered," she supplied weakly. "A burger."

"You want to halves like we usually do?" 

She nodded slightly, unable to keep her defenses from crumbling. Why was she acting like this? She kept quiet, trying to figure out how to regain control of her emotions in as Mulder ordered the fried veggies basket and cheese sticks for them. Why now, she pleaded, was she coming undone? The bartender passed him the beer and walked away. Mulder gazed at the tv, watching the late night basketball scores scroll across the screen. "This seems very unlike you."

She shrugged. "You get to see a side of me that no one usually does."

"Beneath the Ice Queen is a warm center?" She glared him in annoyance and he gave a warm smile. "Sorry but not sorry. It's nice to see you so..."

"Normal?" She sighed in exasperation and rolled her head. "I hate when people automatically assume that I don't have feelings."

"I didn't mean that, Scully."

"I know, Mulder." She sighed. "I just needed to mix things up."

"How so?"

"Are you asking as a shrink or my partner?"

"I'm asking as your friend."

The forbidden word slipped between them like a grain of sand in an hourglass. Insignificant but still so powerful. Scully gulped and cleared her throat. "We're friends?"

"I...I like to think so."

She nodded and focused on her wine. There was a long silence before she spoke again. "It's the deaths. My dad and Jack. I can't...I can't explain it, Mulder. I know I shouldn't feel guilty but I do. I feel like it is my fault." She finished the rest of her wine and Mulder grabbed her wrist lightly. "What?"

"For once, let go?"

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"Don't behind those walls I see every day," he spoke softly. Scully's eyes lingered on him cautiously. She had heard the same voice from on top of the world. "Come on, Scully. I can see every day how much it hurts you."

Fucking alien worms and the top of the world. Scully waved her hand and ordered a vodka soda with an orange slice. Mulder ordered himself a second beer. "You really want to hear what I have to say?"

"I'm better than a preacher," he told her, crossing his heart.

She bit her lip and suddenly just surrendered. She surrendered to her emotions and to feel. She submitted to being the perpetrator of her father and Jack's deaths. "It's my fault that my father and Jack died," she confessed softly. "If I had not joined the FBI my father would still be alive. If I had acted quicker Jack would still be alive." She snorted as her bartender brought her drink. "I'm supposed to be the brave daughter, the dutiful one. Dad had his hopes long ago that I was going to make the family proud and be a doctor at a famous hospital. I shattered him by joining the FBI. Jack. Oh, Jack, what false love." She downed her vodka in a few quick sips that left Mulder stunned. "I've always been attracted to powerful men. And with Jack...I don't know what I felt, Mulder, but I know it wasn't love. I never loved him." Scully had tears in her eyes. "It's my fault they died. If I had done something different, maybe they'd be alive. It's all my fault, Mulder, all of it."

It must have been the alcohol talking, Mulder mused because his Scully would never be this open. But he reached out and took her hand. When was the last time someone had touched her so...purposefully? Intimately? Would she trust him? Not emotionally of course. No, she had built stonewalls that no siege could penetrate around her inner self. However, underneath all that, the warmth between them. But at the base level, her hear knew. The warmth of his hand swallowing hers and vibrating through her entire being spurned a memory and she recalled being held on top of the world. That after everything, she could trust him. Without thinking or control of herself, Scully threw herself uncharacteristically into his arms and cried. Mulder stood in shock, if he moved, something would go wrong. Not knowing what to do, he patted her shoulder and tried to speak soothingly. It was the briefest minute that seemed to last a lifetime. Quickly, as if coming out from under a spell, Scully reclaimed herself. She wiped her tears and looked embarrassed. 

"I'm sorry for my outburst," she eventually admitted as the bartender brought her a third drink, more vodka for the pain and for her embarrassment. She was averting her eyes, fixated on the gnarled wooden bar top. "It's not like me."

He reached out to reclaim her hand and squeezed it quickly, a sign of solidarity. As she shifted her gaze to their joined hands. Mulder coughed and quickly withdrew it in a weak attempt to hide a cough. "Scully, you're okay. What do you say? Stay here a little longer with me? I'm starving and haven't eaten dinner yet. We have all those food coming and I'd hate to waste it."

"I get first dibs on the cheese sticks," she mumbled.

"It wouldn't be right if you didn't."

About twenty minutes later as Mulder and Scully in silence, their food arrived. The scent of greasy and unhealthy foods mixed with the atmosphere of the dive bar caused Scully hummed appreciatively. Without thinking, Mulder plucked one of her onion rings. They continued to ear in silence as the clock ticked and Mulder could really study the rare relaxed and causal Scully.

"You want to talk about it?" Mulder pushed the cheese sticks towards her. 

"Not really. I don't want to be reminded how depressing my life has become." She shrugged. She reached for a cheese stick, dipped it in marinara, and took a healthy bite. "Their deaths reminded me how alone I really am. My life is the work and that's it. No time for social lives or anything else. You remember when you were chasing the Jersey Devil and I was on that date? I was hoping that you would call so I could go away. I would rather go chasing monsters with you than some lousy date."

He weighed his words carefully unsure if it was the alcohol or her talking. "I...I know this has taken a lot from you, and I know you consider me a little arrogant."

She scoffed. "A little?" 

He gave bet a boyish smile. "A lot." She finished her drink and ordered another one. "I just want you to know I appreciate you and everything you've done."

"What have you done with Mulder and who have you replaced him with?"

"Haha, very funny."

Mulder cut the greasy burger in half without asking and deposited part of it on his own plate. "You really went all out. Mushrooms, onions, bacon, and cheese? I should ask if aliens abducted you?" he chuckled.

Scully was just beginning to feel the warmth in her cheeks, knowing her pale face was already flushed. But sitting her with Mulder, some other warmth was working through her. The way Mulder just reached into her personal space without asking, how normal it felt. Maybe wasn't truly alone. "Do you know the probability of us both being replaced by aliens would be, Mulder? Besides, you know little green men don't exist," she dismissed, reaching for the ketchup.

Mulder paused and smiled slightly as Scully slipped into the comfortable thing they had, whatever it was. "Yes, well, if you are a replacement, your previous version at least knew how to share." He took some of her onion rings as well and pushed the fried veggie basket towards her. "I hope I didn't order this for nothing. You know I only eat the fried pickles."

She smiled softly and picked up a fried mushroom cap. She dipped it into the ranch sauce and took a bite, hissing slightly at how hot the food still was. He chuckled at her and she slapped his bicep. "So, did I steal you from those strange little people?"

"Hm? Oh the Gunmen? No."

"The Gunmen? Are they a band or something?" 

"Something like that," he smirked. He took a large bit of the burger and spoke while still chewing his food. "I'd much rather spend it with my partner anyway."

Scully was surprised by the admission and she knew he was telling the truth. She gave a knowing smile and looked down at her own food. It wasn't one of his late night calls that she got but this was so much better. He looked up to the TV and frowned. "I can't believe they're already talking shit about the Yankees and it isn't even spring training," he cried foul.

"You like baseball?" she asked, wondering what else she did not know about him.

He nodded and flashed her another smile (there are a lot those tonight) and she somehow knew they were just for her. "Yankees fan and Knicks fan are the main two. What about you, Scully?"

She shook her head slowly. "I really never had an interest or time to watch sports, Mulder."

"Really? Huh. Well, maybe we can go to Camden Yards and watch a game this spring." He shrugged absently. "Let's play twenty questions. You asked me one, I'll ask you. Who's your favorite author?"

She blushed and shoved an onion ring in her mouth to give her time to think. "Truman Capote," she said, still chewing the food. She swallowed the onion ring and smiled. "My turn."

. . . .

In a cab, she slept blissfully against him in thanks to the alcohol. It was two a.m. and in a rare change of routines for him. Friday nights, if he was not on a case, were either spent bullshitting with the Gunmen or drinking a local bar alone and passing out. But tonight...there must have been a blue moon or something. When he saw Scully sitting alone at the bar, he had been moved by pity. How many nights had he spent in the same position? So he went to check on her. Then he was moved to make her feel better. Caught between the guilty of death she should not carry and loneliness, he stayed with her. Something must have changed in the few short months between them that he couldn't explain. But he ended up staying, splitting dinner, talking and laughing, learning things about the small redhead agent that was sent to spy on him who he, at the end of this night, considered a likely friend and guaranteed ally in his quest. She only sought to help him and he would return the favor however he could. Right now, that was being the pillow to his drunk and passed out partner.

She murmured something and snuggled against his side as the cab slowed to a stop outside her Georgetown apartment. Mulder quietly paid the cabbie, ignoring the smirkful glares and got out of the car first. He did not have the heart of wake her so he fished for her keys and grasped them lightly in his hand as he bent back into the cab and lifted her easily. She really was small, he smiled slightly. Carefully he maneuvered her up the wake way and down the hall to her apartment. He unlocked the door with some difficult and closed the door with his foot. 

Unsure of what to do and spying a blanket on the back of her couch, Mulder carried her into her bedroom and lay her on the bed. This was completely unknown territory for him and also very out of character, but somehow, she was bringing things out in him that he thought he no longer had. He strolled out into the living room, grabbed the blanket, and draped it over her. She murmured something in her sleep and he smiled. Taking a moment to sit on the edge of the bed, his fingers lightly traced the shape of her cheek, and he smiled.

She murmured something, waking up in a haze. The darkness hid their faces but she somehow knew it was him. "Mmph. Where are we?"

"At your apartment," Mulder spoke in a low voice. Scully closed her eyes, remembering when he held her at the Icy Cape and how his chest rumbled when he spoke like that to her. She let the memory wash over her like a wave. "I'm going home. Call me in the morning okay?"

"Mm 'kay," she yawned. "Mulder?"

"Yeah, Scully?"

"Thank you. For everything tonight."

"It's nothing, Scully."

"To me it is." She yawned again. "Not alone. Got you."

"You're talking nonsense."

"'M smarter than you. Know what I'm talking about." She blindly groped for his hand and gave it a quick, light squeeze. "Take my apartment key. I have a copy. Meant to give that to you last week."

Mulder was touched by the additional gateway into her personal space. "Okay. Call me tomorrow when you wake up to let me know you're okay. I'll have a copy of my key for you, Monday."

She nodded. "Call you. Got it." He hesitantly reached for her face again and gently traced her cheek before getting up. "Thanks, Muler. Still got you."

"Always, Scully," he spoke softly. He bowed his head and smiled slightly. Quietly, he left the bedroom door and shut the door behind him.


End file.
